Moths to a Flame
by Psi Fi
Summary: Thanks to Ra's Al Ghul, MacGyver spends a night at Arkham Asylum. He sees a familiar face there...sort of. Meet Thomas Schiff, paranoid schizophrenic.


MacGyver was more than used to having to his free time interrupted by work and impending disasters. A glittering wave of energy and pressure grabbing him and depositing him in a long, stone hallway was another matter. Wincing a bit from his hard landing, MacGyver climbed to his feet.

"Hey, dude! Are you all right?"

MacGyver turned to see a sturdy, Latin man approaching fast, concern magnifying his dark eyes.

"I think so," MacGyver said warily, noting the man's uniform. "Where am I?"

"This is Arkham! Man, I'm glad you ended up in a lower security area."

"How did I get here?"

"I'm just an orderly. They don't tell me jack. Sorry, bro."

Grimacing, MacGyver took out his cell phone, but there was no service available.

"May I use a phone, please?"

"I don't carry mine on me and the land lines are down. I'm Luis."

"I'm MacGyver."

"Can I call you Mac?"

"Most people do," MacGyver agreed with a wry smile.

"Why don't you come along with me on my rounds, Mac? People have been appearing and disappearing for the past two hours. Maybe by the time I'm done, you'll be home. I gotta take care of these guys, though."

"Sure, if no one will mind."

"Psssh. This is Arkham, Mac. We're just grateful, when the place doesn't burn down!"

"And, you have no idea what's causing all this?"

"I heard rumors Ra's al Ghul is back in town, but I don't _know_ anything."

MacGyver bit back a protest of denial. If this wasn't real, it was the most elaborate set up he'd ever heard of. Either way, biding his time seemed like the best idea. Luis certainly behaved as if his claims were true. He went from cell to cell, picking up dirty laundry and checking on the patients. He was kind and thoughtful, sharing jokes and casual conversation with the prisoners.

"Next up, Thomas Schiff! Keep back a bit with this one. He doesn't like strangers."

MacGyver obeyed, standing back from the bars running across the front of the cell. A tall man lounged in the corner at the head of his bed, half-hidden by shadows. MacGyver could just make out dark hair and equally dark, gleaming eyes. To Luis' astonishment, Schiff got up and approached the bars.

MacGyver barely hid a flinch of surprise.

Thomas Schiff looked exactly like Murdoc must have, ten years ago. The face was a bit smoother and softer, but the same brown eyes shone out from under black brows. It could just as easily have been Murdoc staring at him, intrigued for some nameless reason.

"Who's this, Luis?"

"I'm Angus MacGyver."

"Angus? You don't seem very Scottish."

"Nope. I'm from Minnesota, originally. Most people call me Mac."

"Mac's one of those people who've been showing up out of nowhere."

"Mm. The natives will be restless," Schiff said with a short chuckle. "I'm Tom."

"It's okay," Luis said firmly. "It's just Al Ghul up to his tricks. It's got nothing to do with you or anyone here."

"Yes, I get it," Tom said, annoyed. "I took my meds like a good boy."

"You barely touched your supper, though," Luis said, shooting MacGyver a concerned look. "Anything wrong?"

"They put too much sugar in it," Tom said, his comment and indifferent shrug aimed more at MacGyver, than Luis.

"I guess the food's not too good here?" Angus asked, kindly.

"Actually, Bruce Wayne makes sure it is," Tom admitted, wryly. "They just keep losing the teaspoon and using the tablespoon, when making spaghetti sauce."

"That sucks," MacGyver said agreeably.

"You're not a patient and you don't work here. What do you do?"

"I'd tell you, but I'd be committing treason."

Tom gave a laugh of surprise, leaning further onto the bars and studying MacGyver with amusement.

"Well, we'd better not go there, then!"

"What about you? What do you do outside of here?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Tom said softly. "It's safer in here. I didn't think so, when they released me after the first time, but now I do."

"What happened?" MacGyver asked, gently.

"Hm," Tom giggled, then grinned, answering dryly. "I had to choose between buying food and medicine. I think I might have made the wrong choice."

"It doesn't sound like you had any good ones."

"Hey, come on," Luis interrupted. "You're getting better. That's what counts. Come on, Mac. We gotta move. Take it easy, Tom."

"All right," Macgyver assured him. "Good-bye, Tom. I hope things do get better."

"The doctors here are actually pretty good, y'know," Tome said, with a soft smile. "It's not their fault we keep coming back. Thanks, though. Good-bye, Angus MacGvyer."

MacGyver and Luis moved up a flight of stairs to a different hallway and the orderly relaxed a bit.

"You gotta be careful, Mac. Tom seemed to like you, but some of these guys are tricky."

"I'll stay back," Mac promised.

MacGyver flung up his hand, as intense light filled the hallway. Luis gave a cry of alarm, as a series of clicks announced all the cell doors opening. The patients gave their own cries of surprise, followed by raucous laughter.

"Mac!" Luis cried.

MacGyver tried to move closer, but the patients moved fast, flooding the hallway. They barred MacGyver from Luis, who was soon hidden by the crowd. MaGyver shoved his way in the general direction Luis had been in, but didn't find him. Slowly, but inexorably, the patients shoved him toward and down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, MacGyver felt a strong hand grab onto his elbow. MacGyver whirled around, pulling his arm free. He found Tom looming over him, his hands raised placatingly. He reached down, taking MacGyver's wrist and tugging lightly.

"C'mon. It's gonna be a stampede. I know someplace safe," Tom urged. "C'mon!"

Reluctantly, MacGyver nodded. He was too unfamiliar with the building and he suspected even the back doors would be swamped. He fell into step with Tom, who half-ran against the crowd, deeper into the building. They took another flight of stairs down.

"Ground floor!" Tom announced. "Yes! I'm going to the usual place."

"Where are we going?" MacGyver asked, eying him warily. This hallway was nearly empty, with no one nearby for Tom to talk to.

"Somewhere quieter," Tom assured him, then snapped. "Leave him alone! It'll be fine!"

"Tom?" MacGyver prodded, concerned.

Tom looked around shiftily, then shrugged.

"We're almost there," Tom insisted.

Tom led MacGyver to glass doors a few feet away and out of the building. They stood on a sidewalk that ran parallel to the outer walls of the asylum. The sidewalk, in turn, was bordered by a black iron fence. The interior of the fence was mostly hidden by trees and tall shrubs.

"I'm not having a psychotic break or anything," Tom promised, as he groped around in the underside of a shrub, a few feet from a gate in the fence. "Stress just makes the voices louder. It's hard to tell which ones are real."

With a triumphant grin, Tom pulled a long key out from under the shrub. Swiftly, he opened the fence's gate, herding MacGyver inside. Once in, Tom turned and locked the gate, then put the key back under the shrub. MacGyver looked around the pretty courtyard. It was full, not only of trees and shrubs, but flowers, vines, and long grasses, arranged artfully. The effect was restful.

The courtyard was quieter, but MacGyver could still hear the other patients. As he stared up at the windows, the lights went out in one section of the asylum. Tom came and stood beside him.

"They're almost all trying to get out," he explained. "A few are hiding in other places."

"You don't want to get out?"

And do what? Steal a cheeseburger?" Tom asked, laughing, not seeing Batman pass by over the trees. He grinned. "That's about all I'd have time for, before Batman caught up to me."

"Fair enough," MacGyver conceded, with a small smile.

"Come over here," Tom said. "We can sit down."

Tom led MacGyver to some stone benches, surrounded by ivy-covered fence sections.

"I always come here, when there's a mass breakout. Look, up there! That's the window to my cell. I've got a pretty good view of the courtyard from there."

"No one's ever found your key?"

"I don't think they've looked. No one ever comes here, except to take me back, after. Probably a good thing. It'd just get dirtied up with styrofoam cups and cigarettes."

"How long does this usually last?"

"Depends. It looks like everyone got out this time. But, y'know, this is Gotham! It'll mostly be over in a few hours."

"It's sad something like that is normal."

"Gotham's a sad place," Tom said, shrugging, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Call it a delusion, if you want, but I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with the water."

"You suffer delusions?" MacGyver asked, sympathizing.

"Voices, delusion...all the usual stuff they say defines paranoid schizophrenia."

"What makes you suspect the water?"

"Are you kidding?!" Tom giggled. "Do you know how many people like me there are in Gotham? We're a p-plague!"

"You're not a plague. Having an illness doesn't make you one."

"My illness led to me and a group of other fellas nearly assassinating the mayor," Tom said wryly.

MacGyver squirmed at the word assassin. He's nearly forgotten Tom's resemblance to Murdoc.

"Well, I'm not in here for traffic tickets," Tom said, laughing, unoffended. "If it's any comfort, you're not a politician, so you're safe enough."

"You don't like politicians?" MacGyver asked, keeping his tone casual.

"On my worst days, I honestly believe they're demons...literally."

"How did you convince the others?"

Tom stopped smiling, fidgeting restlessly.

"I didn't," he nearly whispered. "The Joker convinced all of us."

"I'm sorry," MacGyver said, gently.

Tom just shrugged, looking away.

"Batman said the Joker attracts minds like mine..."

"Kind of harsh," MacGyver interrupted, disapproving.

"No. Not the way he meant it. See, the Joker...his voice, the way he thinks, he can make insanity seem sane. It was almost as if he could hear _my_ voices. His voice blended in so well with the other things I was hearing."

"It's scary, when someone like that gets inside your head," MacGyver admitted, grimly.

"The voice of experience," Tom said sardonically.

"Yep."

"Come on," Tom wheedled, grinning. "Tell me a little about yourself. I mean, you're probably in some alternate universe or something, with the way you just dropped in here."

"Can I trust you?" MacGyver teased, making Tom laugh.

"You can trust everyone else to not believe me."

"Close enough. I work as a government agent. I rescue kidnap victims, fight terrorists, defuse bombs...I do that last one a lot actually. I fight crime organizations. We're pretty diverse."

"Wow. You don't look the part. You look..."

"Like a boyscout?" MacGyver finished for him, wryly.

"Well, yeah," Tom admitted, with a chuckle.

"I get that a lot."

"From whoever I remind you of?"

MacGyver arched his brows in question.

"I don't know," Tome explained, shrugging. "Just...the way you looked, when you first saw me, a couple of times since..."

"I don't think knowing about Murdoc is in your best interests. It's not...encouraging. You're not him."

"Nope. Cool name, though."

"Yeah," MacGyver agreed, laughing. "I guess it is. It suits him."

"Are you from Gotham?"

"Where I'm from, there is no Gotham."

"Lucky you!" Tom said, with a bark of laughter.

"Yeah. I was raised in Minnesota. Now, I live in Los Angeles."

"All that sunshine must be nice. Gotham's dark, even in good weather."

"Yeah, but, sad to admit, I'm really not a city boy by nature."

"I guess that's something you won't be admitting to Murdoc," Tom said, amused.

"No, probably not," MacGyver agreed, laughing.

Distant laughter howled in the background. Tom shrunk in on himself a bit, his smile becoming nervous.

"It's okay," MacGyver said, soothingly. "Like you said, Batman will take care of it."

"You don't even know who Batman is," Tom scoffed, irritated.

"Gotham doesn't exist in my reality, but stories about it do," MacGyver corrected. "I know who Batman is."

"I guess foretold isn't always forewarned. I'm sorry you got stuck in here with me."

"You helped me," MacGyver stressed. "I appreciate it."

Tome smiled ruefully.

"I like you."

MacGyver tilted his head, puzzled.

"Why?"

No skepticism marred the question, prompted by simple curiosity. Murdoc seemed to like MacGyver, too, in his own, homicidal way. What made these mentally disturbed men fond of him? Tom just laughed, shrugging.

"Why not? Something in your face or eyes, I guess. You're just...likeable."

"Well, thank you," MacGyver said, a bit surprised.

A heavy flapping noise rustled behind them and MacGyver watched Tom shrink back again, looking afraid. MacGyver stood, whirling around, defensively. Batman stood a few feet behind him, staring steadily at MacGyver.

"I've figured out Ras A Ghul's spell and where he had his center. I can send you home now."

"Thank you," MacGyver said, simply, turning back to Tom. "You'll be okay?"

Tom nodded, a smile briefly quirking the corners of his lips. Batman turned his dark eyes on the trembling patient. His voice softened slightly.

"Dent and the Joker are both loose. Stay out of sight of the other patients. Luis will be here for you soon."

Tom nodded nervously, shifting closer to concealing foliage.

"Let's go," Batman ordered.

"In a moment," MacGyver countered, reluctant to simply leave Tom by himself. "Tom...thank you."

"Glad we met. It's okay. You better go," Tom whispered. "Good-bye."

"Me, too. Good-bye, Tom."

MacGyver wasn't sure he didn't imagine the soft "be careful" he thought he heard, as they walked away. Once they were back in the hallways, Batman increased their pace, going at a near run. MacGyver kept up and they were soon on the roof.

"You were in the safest place, so I left you for last," Batman told him, bringing him to a circle of energy standing free in the middle of the roof.

"How do you know that opens up in my reality?"

"It's built into the spell. You'll have to trust me."

"Yeah. Tom's not a bad man," MacGyver asserted, thinking of his new friend. "He's just troubled."

"I know," Batman said flatly. "Dent, the Joker, villains like them...they use people like Schiff. It becomes harder for them to get help and find stable lives. I do what I can."

"Yeah. I know," MacGyver conceded, sighing.

"He'll be all right," Batman promised, reluctantly, then commanded, "You have to go now."

"Good-bye and good luck," MacGyver said, stepping through the portal and landing in his yard.

Two hours later, Luis led Tom back into his cell. A fresh cheeseburger and fries waited for him by his bed.


End file.
